


Bread From Heaven

by eruriotica (minxiebutt)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-War, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Guns, Marriage, Military, Murder, Power Imbalance, bdsm undertones, border police mike, cold war vibes, illegal border crossing, runaway nanaba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 13:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19394881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minxiebutt/pseuds/eruriotica
Summary: And she comes over the wall right in front of him like bread from heaven. He’s supposed to shoot her. That’s his job. Healwaysdoes his job but something in her dirty, pretty face holds him back, makes him curious to find out what he could do to someone like her.





	Bread From Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> wip title "the wall." this is the border guard/runaway fic i was teasing on twitter. please read with caution.

The timing is comical, how he’s thinking about finding a girl and a girl comes tumbling right over the wall and landing at his feet.

It was just this evening that he’d been dining with Erwin and they’d been discussing the fact that he didn’t have a woman at home to take care of him, and that Erwin’s divorced sister had always had a fondness for him; but Mike is not particularly interested in raising another man’s son, not when that son bares his real father’s name. He’s grateful to be assigned to patrol for the evening so that he can further analyse (sans peanut gallery) the shambles of his situation as his unit’s only single military officer.

Truthfully-- and he has to be honest with himself if he wants to change the situation-- Mike has no wife because his controlling appetites scare contenders away. No one who wants what he has to give is strong enough, either. Those women are too easily broken for him to feel good handling, and besides, what strong woman wants a man who seems to deny her the feminist rights the new movement has granted?

And she comes over the wall right in front of him like bread from heaven. He’s supposed to shoot her. That’s his job. He  _ always _ does his job but something in her dirty, pretty face holds him back, makes him curious to find out what he could do to someone like her.

“Please don’t kill me,” she gasps. She makes prayer hands and holds them before her face, her eyes on him. “I will do whatever you want.”

The image she creates stokes a fire within his chest and it burns on the coal of his desire. _ Oh, _ someone desperate like her would make a wonderful, obedient, submissive pet. The young officer lives not far from here, and the girl’s looking up at him with such frightened eyes, he knows she’ll be good and quiet. He presses a finger to his lips, she nods fervently, and so he takes her to his home before returning to his shift.

What’s a girl doing travelling alone like this? Over the course of the night, no other people are found breaching the wall, so Mike knows she is not separated from a group. She is truly alone. He grins behind a cigarette. Dependence on him is guaranteed.

He gets back home at a time when the city is just waking and rising for breakfast. The girl has curled up in his entryway, fully dressed and still wearing her shoes, clutching her backpack to her chest. As soon as he makes any noise, she bolts upright, face full of fear once again.

“Shhh,” he soothes, holding up empty hands. The girl lays back down but keeps her eyes on him. They didn’t have much of an introduction when he rushed her back to his apartment, so with the space between them, he squats down to look less imposing and asks, “What’s your name?”

She looks to him with confusion before she answers, “Nanaba.”

He presses a hand to his chest and reciprocates. “My name is Mike. Where’s your family?” He asks, the most pressing question. 

“Dead.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.” Then she does something he’s not expecting. The girl sits up and crawls over to him before curling her body in half and pressing her forehead to the floor between his feet, the most humble of positions. “You don’t have a wife. Please take me and I will do whatever you say.”

Overwhelmed with how good it makes him feel to be begged, he wants to be gentle to her but he bats those learned urges down, choosing instead to give in to his more natural, sadistic response. 

“How old are you, Nanaba?”

“Fifteen. And you?” She looks at him like she’s daring him to object.

“Twenty-eight. Does that change your mind?”

“No,” she proclaims with confidence.

“Alright.” Laying one hand on the back of her head, he accepts her request, enjoying the way the tension leaks out of her. Was this how arranged marriages of old felt? Sudden and solid and no backing out? This is the one who will accompany him to the end of his life and they’ve barely spoken, they don’t even know each other! They’re strangers. He’s so used to attempting to woo and court that this sudden decision feels strange in its comfort. “I will make you mine.”

Mike lays out all the truths that he normally waits until the third date to disclose, but they’re making a split-second commitment and it’s only fair that she agree to it with her eyes opened. He sets down the ground rules, how the home will function with him being the breadwinner and her doing all the domestic work. He will handle the finances but she will need for nothing. She seems to be taking it all quite well until he goes into detailing how her body belongs to him now, that he will give her certain permissions, he will decide what she’s allowed to do, and he will punish her when he sees it necessary. Her face goes cherry-red when he talks about how often he likes to get off, and she summarises his speech back in a shaky question. 

“So… y-you own me now?”

“Yes. If you want to be mine, those are the conditions.” Mike rises and drags her up by her elbow. “If you do not agree, I will take you to the police.”

“I accept even more happily,” she murmurs like she’s trying to convince herself. He doesn’t expect this stale, dry bread to go down easily on the first swallow. With water, she’ll accept. 

The first order of his new housemate is to bathe. She’s caked in dirt from travelling. In fact, Mike had thought she was brunette until he turns on the shower and the rush of water reveals her light blonde. He soaps her up before doing the same on himself, ready to wash away a whole patrol shift’s worth of sweat. While her cheeks are round and pink, the rest of her is hungry to be fed. She has a smattering of hair growing under her arms and between her legs, but it doesn’t bother him so he doesn’t offer her a razor. Caught between childhood and womanhood, she’s a flower only half unfurled. He’ll force those petals open.

Clean now, he gives her one of his t-shirts and a pair of his underwear, and then she follows him into the small kitchen. He piles all their laundry into the little washing machine beside the sink, and she’s all big eyes and she watches him set the washing cycle. 

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” she nods. Her tiny breasts push against the shirt and sway with every movement. 

He opens the breadbox to pull out a two rye rolls, the covered dish of butter, and the small jar of apple jam he keeps in the refrigerator. Her eyes light up as she watches him cut the rolls in half, and patiently, she lets him take his time smearing both halves with butter and jam before giving it to her. She holds it in her hands, waiting for him to prepare his own, and only after he takes his first bite does she give in to her hunger. In a flash, she’s licking her fingers clean.

Getting into his bed, Mike clicks off the lamp and beside him, she’s a tense board of wood, so he turns onto his side and gathers her up in his arms. It’s odd to share a bed with another human, one so small and warm, but he doesn’t stay awake long enough to ponder it.

He wakes alone. A moment of panic is chased away by the sound of scrubbing. Mike rolls onto his back and groans. It feels like he’s hardly slept.

Out in his tiny main room, she’s on her hands and knees, scrubbing the hardwood with a rough bristle brush, a bucket beside her. Bent over like this, the collar of his shirt on her body hangs low, revealing to him the breasts bouncing with her movements. They’re so small that they could fit in his mouth, he thinks.

She’s opened the windows and methodically moved all the furniture to one side so that she can clean the floors in two parts. When she notices him, she doesn’t stop, only grunts out a “good evening” as she continues in her self-assigned chore. Above her head, she’s set up the laundry line to dry the clothing he washed before they laid down, making it clear that she’s been up for some amount of time and that she takes her new position very seriously. Mike’s heard fantastical stories about ordering brides from over the wall, how they come like easily trained and docile creatures, wanting only to please their new masters. But Mike can see that beneath Nanaba’s sweet epidermis, she is anything but docile. Docile girls don’t run away, risking their lives to cross borders alone.

Of course he will need to train her just a little bit. But still, she’s fifteen. She won’t be much work. All he needs to do is make her love him.

Seeing that she’s occupied, Mike goes through his morning routine in the bathroom, even jacking off twice instead of once. It’s been cleaned in here, too. The porcelain all shines, nearly reflective, so he makes sure to give special attention to tidying up behind himself so that she will see he respects her work. 

She’s moved on to scrubbing the other half of his living room. The grandfather clock in the corner by the open window tells him that it’s just after four in the afternoon, a little less than a complete handful of hours until he must report. He needs to talk to Erwin about getting some paperwork but it can wait a while. A hot meal is calling his name.

Mike takes up cooking while she painstakingly finishes up on the floor. When she’s done, she tries to push him away and take over the stove but he swats her ass with an open hand, making her yelp. It’ a beautiful sound-- he allows himself a momentary fantasy of tying her up and forcing even  _ more _ of those sounds out of her small body until he has to gag her to make her shut the fuck up. They look at one another, Mike judging her reaction, and slowly a smile creeps over her face. 

“You like that?” He teases. 

She covers her mouth and nods. Mike raises a brow. 

“You aren’t scared of me at all, are you, Nanaba?”

“A little… I feel more lucky than afraid.”

Mike only hums in direct response then asks her to make a salad of some leftover boiled root vegetables. They keep talking, skirting around the subject they mutually want to address. When he’s finished cooking and they’re seated opposite one another at his small table, he says, “You were all red last night when I was talking about fucking. You ever been with a man?”

She shakes her head, looking up at him with a mouth full of pasta and bright, wide eyes. There’s genuine curiosity in her rather than innocence. She’s a girl wanting to become a woman. 

Mike stirs his noodles in the sauce. “Why’d you come over the wall, Nanaba?”

“To escape.”

“What’re you running from?”

“Weak men.”

“What do you mean?”

“Marriage was my only option but the men are all spineless and cower to their wives. I didn’t want that,” she spits. It seems that as she opens up, the words begin to freely flow. “I didn’t want to be in charge. I wanted a real man, a mean man, who can make me do what he says. I wanted a man who will hit me and fuck me when he wants. I wanted a man who will control me, and all the stories I’ve heard made it sound like I should be on the other side of the wall.”

Mike listens to her confession and gives his next words careful thought. It’s almost like they’re a perfect pair. “You’re right to feel lucky. I’ve already told you what kind of man I am, and I’m as lucky as you. There are few men left who can be dominant the way they desire.” Mike reaches over the table and cups her cheek, making her freeze and blush like a spring rose. “What a couple we make.”

Transfixed, she agrees, “Yes.”

Mike tells her what time to expect him back. “Neighbours all know I live alone. So unless you want the police coming around, keep all the lights off and don’t make too much noise. 

Curled on the sofa, she nods. Her eagerness to be obedient leaves him at ease.

Morning comes and Mike comes back home to find her sitting on the sofa, legs criss-cross, all of his dress shirts spread around her. She has a needle and thread in her hands, immense concentration on her face.

“Good morning,” she chirps, then yawns, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand holding the needle.

Mike kneels to remove his boots. “Did you stay up all night?”

“Mhm,” she confirms in a hum. “I thought it’s only fair to adjust to your schedule.”

Next, he unbuttons his uniform coat and slips it onto a hanger that he puts on a hook on the back of his door. He strips out of the rest of the cotton and canvas and dumps it all in the washing machine. Is Nana still wearing the shirt he put on her yesterday? The laundry that was hanging in the apartment to dry has been put away, but he can’t really tell.

“Is that the shirt from yesterday?”

“Yeah.” She’s not really paying attention to him, her focus centered on a difficult button. He walks over and without warning, lifts the shirt from her body.

“Give me that underwear, too. We’re gonna shower now.”

Nanaba doesn’t put up any fuss other than to finish sewing on the button that’s giving her trouble before she listens to him. He gives it a pass. He would rather encourage her initiative. 

The shyness she had in their first shower together is completely gone now. Instead of passively accepting, she takes the soap from him and lathers him up, clearly taking her time appreciating his body, spending a considerable amount of time on his cock and balls. He doesn’t hide the way it arouses him. It’s quite bold of her, and he thinks now that she’s not just wanting to become a woman, she’s chasing that transformation. As she moves on to wash herself, Mike moves in close, crowding her into the corner, standing over her and slipping his fingers into her hair. 

He swipes her hair back and lays his open mouth on her forehead. “I wanna take you to bed,” he confesses into the skin. 

Beneath him, she giggles, and he’s reminded that she’s only fifteen. She’s not shy or child-like, not even really innocent, but she’s still young and inexperienced in these things. Mike is good on his word, though. They rinse and dry off, then he mousterises them with lotion, his broad hands covering more distance on her body faster than she can on his. Still, it’s touching that she wants to do it for him, so he stands tall and allows her to explore him yet again. She’s adventurous with the matter of his body.

Nanaba clearly has a thing for his balls, so when he begins to get hard, he grasps his cock and pumps it with two lazy strokes that she watches, enraptured. 

“Will that thing fit?” She blurts and Mike can’t help but to laugh, not  _ at her _ , but at her brazenness meant to cover up her inexperience. 

“Probably not the first few times,” he concedes. She’s young and all the world’s enthusiasm won’t help her take him until she’s been ploughed a good number of times. 

At his words, she takes a stance like it’s a challenge. “Why not?”

“You have to get used to it,” he tells her. He takes her hand and leads her from the bathroom and toward his bed, saying, “The more we have sex, the better you’ll get at taking it.”

“You plan to have a lot of sex with me this morning?” She teases. 

He looks down at her and chuckles. “Didn’t you say you wanted a man to fuck you whenever he wanted?”

“Well-- yes! But,” she clears her throat and sits on the edge of his bed. “Is that something couples do? Have sex a lot?”

“What’s your impression?” Mike asks. He plants his hands on the bed at either side of her hips, putting his face right down with hers so he can kiss her neck.

“I don’t know, they talk about it like they hate it.”

Mike licks a strip up her throat to her ear. “Do you ever touch yourself?”

She whines and brings her hands to cover her face. “Mike!”

He stands straight and yanks her hands down by the wrists, demanding to see her expression. She looks up at him a little shocked and a little giddy, biting her bottom lip. “Be a good girl--,” she inhales sharply at that term, “--and  _ tell me _ if you’ve ever touched yourself, Nanaba.”

“Yes,” she whispers, her thighs pressing together and her hips shifting. They’re still naked, and Mike watches the way her nipples pebble up. “But I wasn’t supposed to.”

“And you did it anyway because it felt good, didn’t you?” He croons, making a move. Mike joins her on the bed, using his grip on her wrists to lay her back and kneel astride her body. Then he hooks his hands under her arms and hoists her up, putting her head into the pillows and bringing their mouths together. She relaxes underneath him and loops her arms around his neck, tugging him down like she needs him closer. He lets her hold some of his weight.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” he purrs into her mouth, makes her taste his words. “A good, good girl like you should be cherished. Show me how you give yourself pleasure.”

Nanaba whines again, a sound he’s beginning to crave. Embarrassment colours her face and neck, clear down her chest, and Mike follows that blush with his mouth until he finally gets to her left breast. It  _ does _ fit completely in his mouth, and she moans. He follows that noise as he experiments with what she likes, flicking his tongue over the nipple and digging his teeth into the skin at the base. Around his neck, her arm tightens. Between them, her other small hand makes dizzy circles.

“Please,” she whimpers, reduced to incoherency so easily. Mike licks his middle finger and unceremoniously stuffs it down in her cunt alongside her own smaller digits, rewarded with rutting hips. He twists his hand so that his thumb can work at her clit at the same time, moving his fingers in a satisfying unison that further simmers her down into a puddle in his bed. She is unabashedly enjoying this, and that fact encourages him, makes him want to hear her screaming his name and begging for mercy from his pain. Soon, he promises himself. He’ll work her into this life slowly. He has to remember that everything is new to her, and it’s his responsibility to guide her and protect her. With a firm and gentle hand, he will.

Mike fingers her, adding his ring finger inside of her as he tirelessly drives her higher and higher, making her wet enough to take him. He kisses her, too, because he can tell that she likes kisses. He won’t stroke his own ego, but it’s likely that he’s her first kiss, too. She’s not shy about putting her tongue in his mouth but she’s uncertain, copying the movements he shows her until she’s leading him instead.

He wants to speak filth into existence between them, and there’s no reason for him to hold back, so he gruffly promises, “You’ll be my slut soon. I’ll have you trained so well, I’ll make you cum on command.” 

Below him, she helplessly nods, her hands in his hair. He removes his fingers and licks them clean, moaning with how delicious she tastes.

“Grab my cock,” he orders and she obeys, not just eager to please him but eager to receive the pleasure he wants to give. Her fingers tremor and he wants to kiss that shake away as much as he wants to revel in it. “There, good girl. Show me where you want it.”

Her hips raise, legs dropping open a little more, and she pulls him down by the apex of his body, brushing the head of his cock against the slick heat of her. Her knees raise from the bed the barest bit before falling back down.

“Mike,” she mewls. “Will you…”

He grabs her chin with one hand and kisses down into her like he’s angry, all teeth and viciousness, meant to distract her from the potential discomfort of the initial breach. But instead of being met with apprehensive pain, Nana groans loud and jerks her hips in a way that Mike’s cock is swallowed by her starving cunt a lot faster than he anticipates. He doesn’t fit to the hilt, but he’s suddenly halfway into her.

“Oh, my girl,” he purrs, letting her whine and adjust to the penetration. “You feel amazing.”

She’s huffing out small breaths, shocked by the loss of her virginity. Mike waits patiently, his head halfway to heaven, until her hips begin to invite him to move inside of her, begging him to thrust and fuck and claim. When his climax surprises him, he pulls out and cums all over her abdomen, watching it pool in her belly button. She’s pleased but she hasn’t cum, and he’s shameless, he lays himself on the bed between her legs and lets his tongue source her satisfaction.

After she’s been wiped clean of his seed, Mike pulls her into him for sleep. They’ve known each other for a little over twenty-four hours but they’re mutually falling into this relationship like matching pieces meant to be fitted together. 

Mike wakes up two hours before he’s to report for duty, and Nana is still snoring softly beside him. Yesterday, she barely slept before getting up to do chores, and before that, she’d been on the run for god knows how long. She’s got to be exhausted, so he slips from bed and allows her to sleep in. Before he leaves, he makes her breakfast and leaves the covered plate beside the stove for when she wakes up.

The daily routine takes some getting used to, and just when he thinks he’s got it down, he gets his “weekend” days off from work. The first day, he spends buried between his girl’s legs. The second one, they wash up and get dressed and go out for the first time as a couple.

He’s already picked up the paperwork from Erwin that will guard her in this country as his wife. Her age has been exaggerated, because even though fifteen is old enough to get married and Erwin’s not going to judge him, his superiors would look down on that. Still, up until their first trip out together, it’s been easy for Mike not only to forget her age, but also where she comes from. Nanaba has a sassiness that he wasn’t expecting from someone over the wall, but she looks at the affordable, plentiful stands of fresh vegetables with wide eyes that make him _ remember. _ After getting some groceries together at a supermarket, he takes her to a department store, watching the way her eyes light up at all the decadent clothing available for purchase. Even though she’s wearing a rather modest, baggy dress, she chooses to purchase only blouses and trousers, and she’s looking at the way women here get away with styling their hair.

Back at home, she apprehensively cooks for him while he sits at the table reading the newspaper. 

“What’s bugging you?” He finally asks when he can feel her looking at him yet again.

“Mike,” she starts slowly. It’s still easy to forget sometimes just how young she is, but this is a moment where the force of it hits him in the face. “Can I cut my hair like yours?”

He puts the paper down and watches her shift her weight around. Right now, her gold-blonde is pulled back in a loose braid. It’s pretty, but she’s pretty in other ways.

“Will that make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. After we eat,” he promises.

Holding her severed ponytail in her hands, she finally asks what’s really bothering her. “Why do you do what you do?”

Mike cleans the clippers diligently. “Are you asking me this question so that the answer can hurt you?”

His little bride brings him a hot dinner on the rare night that he is assigned to checkpoint duty. The soldiers hold somber respect in a woman’s presence but as soon as Nana is out of sight, the whistling cheers and shoulder slaps all come directed at Mike. When he gets home in the morning, he tells her about it. She smiles as she folds laundry. 

The tepid peace that’s hovered in the weeks surrounding her appearance in his life comes to a violent end on a rainy night. Mike stays after his shift to fill out the report for the six bullets he fired and the six bodies headed to the crematorium. He takes a praiseful phone call from his Commander-in-Chief. He comes home and Nanaba won’t even look at him. Living so close by, he knows she heard the shots ringing out, even with the thunder.

“Come to me,” he requests, and she denies him until he grabs her by the shoulders and takes her jaw in one rough hand, forcing her to look at him. “Who did you pretend that I was, Nana?”

“I didn’t pretend!” She tries to retort. But she’s weak: she’s young and weak and he owns her, she is dependent on him.

“I kill people,” he tells his little illegal bride, straight to her face so that she can’t bury her head in the sand. “And I would have killed you that night, too.”

“Why didn’t you?” There are tears welling in her eyes now. He’s struck the tender chord.

“Because I wanted you.”

She tries to jerk her chin from his hold and chokes on a cry when he slaps her for it, hard enough to bruise her round cheek.

Exposing his sadism entirely, he crowds her into the wall and the hand on her jaw slides down to threaten her throat, admitting, “And I would have kept you against your will.”

“Let me go, Mike,” she whimpers. “Please.”

Instead, he tightens his grip until both of her hands wring his forearm, begging for breath, and even then he only gives her barely enough to keep her conscious.

“You listen to me,” he orders, stern and unforgiving. “The next time you get an attitude with me, I will tie you down and beat your ass until you pass out. You hear me?”

In his grasp, she passably nods, and he releases her, relishing the way she crumples down at his feet, gasping for air.

“Now, we’ll try it again. Come to me.”

Nana looks up, so scared and hurries to stand, though she wobbles. But she stands and follows the guide of his hands as they pass a turning point in their relationship that neither of them can undo.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> felt like a good place to end this. i'm open to continuing it in drabbles, so if you have an idea/curiosity or want to see something more, pleaes drop me an [ask](https://minxiebutt.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> thank you for reading <3


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